On the Edge of a Heartbeat
by Felt-tip-pen101
Summary: Bested by an old foe, Jareth must choose : himself or Sara? JarethSara romance guaranteed to please.
1. Preface

* * *

"You have no power over me." 

The words erupted from her mouth with a physical force that struck and wounded him to his very core. They echoed in his mind a

thousand times magnified, deafening him. They were his Achilles' heel and their force blew him backward, as helpless as a leaf caught in a

cyclone.

The world shattered, and as it did, Jareth wondered if destroying him had been Sara's intent. Had she known what those words could

and would do?

As he fell through the void that lies behind all worlds time seemed to stop. He watched his flowing white cape slowly and delicately curl

and gently flap once, twice. His gaze traveled upwards to where Sara stood, watching him. He gazed into her eyes, slowly - ever so

slowly - falling. There was no malice in those eyes.

He knew now. He voiced it with a thought, one singular thought that was precise and clear while all else was chaos: "She hadn't known."

Then time caught up with him and Sara was gone and the darkness came rushing up to meet him, matching pace with the blackness that

threatened his consciousness, and the last thing he heard before darkness engulfed him was a low chuckling laugh that seemed to echo

everywhere.

* * *


	2. Sameth

"JAARR-EETHHH" a singsong voice softly called. It echoed around him, inside him, everywhere.

"JAARR-EETHHH" it called a second time, then became an echoing laugh that crescendoed to an unbearable level only to suddenly cease. Jareth was not aware of it.

There was silence for aeons, for seconds.

"JAARREETHHH" it called once again, this time louder and more insistant.

This time his mind could not ignore it and realization struck him. He was on his feet and fully conscious in the blink of an eye, body tense and ready for anything.

The voice laughed again, this time full throated and heartily. "Oh Jareth" it said, voice dripping with humour" You do amuse."

"Sameth." Jareth growled in a grim affirmation of what he had been suspecting and dreading since he had heard the voice properly. "Show yourself!" he commanded.

"But of course." The voice replied and a black swathed man materialized before Jareth's eyes.

"It's been a while, Jareth." Sameth said, a secretive smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

"Not long enough." Came Jareth's dark reply.

"Perhaps," Sameth agreed, "But you are here now nonetheless are you not?" he asked raising his eyebrows inquisitively. "I am curious to know the reason you have decided to grace me with your presence…?"

This time it was Jareth's turn to laugh, bitterly. "Don't play innocent, Sameth." he said. "The part doesn't suit you."

"Ah, your words wound, Jareth!" Sameth said in mock hurt. "But, alas yes, you are quite right: I am aware of what has been going on in your realm." Here he paused a moment and looked at Jareth with such disdain that Jareth felt a wave of anger sweep over him. "Beaten by a _mortal_ girl." he tutted, shaking his head.

Jareth clenched his fists so hard his nails pierced his skin, but his face remained calm. "Let's stop this petty _danse macabre_ and skip to the point, Sameth." He said. "Why am I here?"

Sameth's face lit up with a smile that made Jareth uneasy. "So glad you asked." he said. "But first, allow me to explain where exactly 'here' is."

"Welcome to my realm." Sameth said. "It is the realm of Darkness, far more powerful than your pitiable goblin realm." He explained with a slight smirk playing at the edges of his thin red lips. "To think I could ever have wanted it..." he trailed off for a moment, lost in thought. "I trust," he continued, looking directly at Jareth now, "That you have not forgotten what happened during our last…encounter?"

"No." Jareth agreed. "And not for lack of effort on my part."

"And now," Sameth continued, " our roles are reversed and you are the interloper in my lands. I hope," he added, his startlingly blue eyes glimmering with cruel mirth under his wispy midnight hair, "that the irony of it all does not escape you."

"You have yet to answer my question." Jareth reminded him. He did not like where this was going.

"Patience is a virtue that you might do well to learn." Sameth scolded. "I, like you, am slow to forgive and never forget." He continued. "You bested me once, and I want my revenge. That, Jareth, is why you are here."

"Eager to be beaten again, are we?" Jareth chided. "You never were a quick learner."

"Do not underestimate me Jareth." Sameth warned. "It could well prove fatal. Now let us get down to business."

He pulled his black cloak off and flung it away from him in one fluid movement to reveal a tall, slender, muscular form underneath. Jareth followed suit, shedding his white cloak.

Sameth intoned the ceremonial words of challenge. "I, Sameth Prince of Darkness, challenge you, Jareth King of Goblins, to a battle to the death, whereupon the winner shall gain the loser's soul."

"I accept." Jareth said, for not to accept was to concede.

"Then let us begin." Sameth replied, a triumphant smile on his lips.

Jareth closed his eyes and searched for his Centre. He knew Sameth was doing the same thing just feet away. He cleared his mind and concentrated on tapping into his soul, on drawing all the energy he had in reserve in his body and concentrating it in his Centre. He did this with practiced ease and opened his eyes just in time to see Sameth drawing runes in the air.

A blast of fire exploded from Sameth's pointing fingers and almost caught Jareth unawares. He dodged to the left just in time for the magikal flames to graze his right shoulder, singeing his shirt there and leaving a painful burn. Jareth ignored it.

Sameth was preparing another magik attack. Jareth quickly drew runes of protection and reflection in the air, and sent Sameth's second fireball hurling back towards him. Sameth sidestepped it completely. Then Jareth drew the runes of lightning, thunder and wind and sent a man-sized tornado spinning at him. The wind sucked Sameth inside and sent him sprawling with bleeding wind-whipped cheeks.

Sameth was on his feet again almost immediately. He drew runes of strength, power and agility along with those of iron and force. He darted towards Jareth and was behind him in a heartbeat. Sameth concentrated the runes in his fist and delivered Jareth a glancing blow on the left side of his head. Jareth staggered sideways and stumbled to the ground. Sameth took the opportunity to deliver a vicious kick to his ribs that sent him skidding across the floor. Jareth pulled himself to his feet and spat blood from his mouth. He winced at the sharp pain in his chest.

Jareth began forming runes of flora and earth but was stopped short by an immense explosion from Sameth that propelled him across the floor several meters. His shirt was in shreds, singed on one side and non-existent on the other. He tore the small remainder off for freer movement, then ducked a fireball. Darting around beside Sameth, he sent a spray of water at him with the runes of wind, water and speed. Sameth staggered backwards as the speeding water stung him like needles. He flailed out towards Jareth and by chance alone struck him hard enough to gain a second or two to regain his eyesight.

Sameth hurriedly drew runes of earth and stone and concentrated on the stone ground. Within seconds it began to tremble and shake. A low rumbling sound began to swell around Jareth. Sameth suddenly jerked his hand upwards and a huge stone pillar burst from the floor whacking Jareth at an extreme speed and lifting him high into the air. Then Sameth brought his hand down faster than he had brought it up and the pillar disappeared back into the floor – leaving Jareth to free-fall the hundred or so meters to the ground. He hit it with a dull thud and a crunch that meant a broken arm and several broken ribs. Jareth lay unmoving, slightly dazed.

"Don't tell me you're through already." Sameth mocked.

"Not on your life." Jareth said, teeth gritted in pain as he struggled to his feet.

"Good," Sameth replied, "It would be embarrassing to have been beaten before by someone so weak."

Jareth quickly shaped a rune of temporary healing and set it upon his broken arm. A bone could stay healed for an hour at the least when his power and energy were full. He judged it would be fine for twenty minutes at most. The only drawback to a temporary full-heal was that although the broken bone could be used, it would be as painful as if it were still broken.

Dodging a fireball from Sameth, Jareth shaped several sequences, his hands a blur of movement, his right arm and ribs protesting painfully. He sent three fireballs at once towards Sameth; one to his right, one to his left and one straight at him. Sameth jumped to avoid the centre one and came straight into the path of the one on the right. It hit him in the chest, but he showed no more than a wince.

Sameth sent a jet of scalding hot water at Jareth. He ducked it, but Sameth had anticipated this, and had already drawn the runes of cold and wind, and froze the water as it went over Jareth's head. The resulting pillar of ice smashed down onto Jareth, making his head reel. He pushed himself up just in time to be on the receiving end of a blast of sand and wind that hit him head on and sent him flying backwards into a stone wall. He got to his feet groggily. He could taste blood on his lip.

With an immense effort, Jareth sent a lightning attack towards Sameth, who neatly dodged it. Sameth sent a volley of detonations towards Jareth. One hit him in the chest, another in the leg, a third in the stomach. Jareth reeled backwards, and hit the floor with a dull thud. He gritted his teeth and tried to get up.

Sameth formed a complicated spell of crystal wind and fire and sent it spiralling in Jareth's direction. Ten thousand tiny shards of flaming crystal struck Jareth at cyclonal speeds. He fell over again, and landed painfully on his back. Every inch of his body stung. He slowly and shakily got to his feet, but Sameth sent vicious winds whipping towards him. Jareth hit the floor the same instant his temporary healing charm failed. Pain shot through his body from head to toe, and his chest and arm throbbed achingly.

Sameth shaped runes of frost, ice and wind. A terrible cold engulfed Jareth, glazing his skin and wrapping him in a lair of magikal ice. His joints and muscles went numb and his bones screamed in creaking painful protest. Then in a hideously painful contrast with the cold came a searing heat. Jareth cried out in agony and collapsed.

Sameth was laughing now, triumphantly. Jareth strained to push himself to his feet, his every muscle trembling with effort. He made it halfway to his feet before his muscles gave way beneath him. He fell forwards with a sickening crack as his kneecaps collided with the hard stone floor, then toppled over onto his front.

Sameth walked forwards to stand over him. "Goodbye Jareth" he said, voice devoid of emotion. He began to shape the Final Runes, the ones that only the victor can use, meant to tear the opponent's soul from their body, and chanted the ceremonial spell as he did so.

Jareth could feel it. A great and terrible magik stirring all around him, like a slowly uncoiling snake. Sameth's chanting had became increasingly louder and his hands became barely discernable blurs.

Paroxysms of pain gripped Jareth's chest and arm and his body convulsed violently.

"Damn!" he gasped through barely parted lips as the last drops of energy left his being. Then his vision began to cloud and he lost consciousness.

* * *

**Good fight scene? Bad fight scene? Questions? Comments? Review! ;-)**


	3. A Proposition

* * *

Jareth came to with a violent jolt, as icy cold water hit him in the face. He sputtered and coughed and had barely caught his breath before he was doused again. He opened his eyes a little and saw the blurry form of a man in an old fashioned executioner's mask standing over him with an empty pail.

"That will do" said a voice as the man stooped to fill a third pail. "Leave us." The masked man silently obeyed.

Jareth sat up slowly, wincing with every movement. His head felt like it was being beaten with red hot hammers from the inside and there was a searing pain in his side. He took in his surroundings.He was in a dimly lit room, bare and unfurnished except two rickety wooden chairs that had most certainly seen better days. One of the chairs was occupied by a figure mostly shrouded in shadows, but Jareth was nonetheless able to recognize Sameth. Jareth rose shakily to his feet.

"Jareth. Do sit." said Sameth, gesturing the unoccupied chair.

"I'd rather stand, thank you." Jareth said stiffly.

Sameth shrugged indifferently. "Suit yourself." he said.

"Now, you are probably wondering why you are here, and why you still have a soul, so to speak. Well, the answer is this: I have a proposition to make. But before I do so, you must understand two things.

I am a very bored man, Jareth. There is nothing entertaining anywhere in the realm of darkness and quite frankly, I'm bored to tears of it. But I am also a very lonely man. I am in need of a woman, but not just any one. I have set my sights on someone in particular, but I'll get to that in a moment.

Now, my proposal is as follows: your soul technically belongs to me. I could rightfully take it at any given moment if I so wished, as you must know. But I am willing to grant you full ownership of your soul if you are willing to play a little game."

"What game Sameth?" Jareth asked, growing suddenly wary.

"So glad you asked." Sameth continued.

"As I'm sure you'll recall, your labyrinth and your heart were recently conquered by a sixteen-year-old mortal girl."

Jareth stiffened. Sameth wouldn't dare drag Sara into this… would he?

"What you have to do to regain ownership of your soul is share True Love's Kiss with her. And I mean true love's kiss. You will have exactly seven days to do this. If, by the thirteenth chime of the seventh day, you have not shared True Love's Kiss, your soul is mine forever. If, however, you succeed, Sara's soul will belong to me… along with the rest of her exquisite self. You, on the other hand, will be free."

"You can't do that!" Jareth said incredulously.

"Oh, but I can." Came Sameth's cold reply. "You see, Jareth, in sharing a True Love's Kiss, she will have given you her heart and soul utterly and completely." He explained. "Since you owe me your soul, Sara's soul will then be mine.

It's quite simple, really," He continued, "It's the same principle that says if you owed someone a sum of money and someone else owed you a sum of money, the person who owed you would by default end up owing the person you owed instead of you, eliminating the unnecessary step: you. Only in this case it's souls that are owed."

"I refuse." Jareth replied resolutely. "I refuse your offer and I refuse to drag Sara into this. My answer is no."

Sameth's expression was infuriatingly amused. "Oh come now, Jareth," he chided, "Don't be the tragic hero. You can choose not to accept my offer and die a terrible death, or you can choose to play my little game and possibly keep your soul. Sara will either be sent back aboveground or she will live a life of luxury as my mistress. And don't forget will have the entire week to decide. So, which will it be Jareth? Will you accept my most generous offer, or will you die now?"

Jareth glared at Sameth with murder in his eyes. "You know choice has nothing to do with the matter." he growled. "I'll play your game, Sameth, but mark my words: I will have my revenge."

Sameth smiled a cruel smile. "Excellent choice." he said. "Just one more thing: the catch. You can make Sara fall in love with you by any means you deem necessary, but you cannot use magik on her and you will find yourself utterly unable to speak to her of our wager. And her dreams belong to me. Now you'd better be off to your Labyrinth. Have fun! And remember : I'll be watchig."

* * *


	4. A deal with the Devil

**

* * *

**

Sara awoke with the blissfully refreshed feeling that comes after a satisfying sleep. She watched dust motes drift lazily in and out of the stray rays of sunlight that had found their way through her partially closed blinds.

Her clock radio told her it was only five past six on a Saturday morning so she made no move to get up. The house was silent except for the occasional creak of a floorboard or drip from the kitchen faucet. Feeling peaceful and content, Sara rolled over, enjoying the feel of duvet against bare hands and feet.

She looked up at her _Escher Room _poster and thought of the Labyrinth and shivered. Sara hadn't told anyone about the Labyrinth. Who could she tell? Karen? Her father? A teacher? Any of these choices would result in a quick trip to a house with rubber walls. Besides which, her feelings about it were all so mixed up and complicated that she doubted she could put them into words if she wanted to. A small part of her wanted desperately to return to the fantastical realm where all was possible. But a larger part knew the consequences could be dire.

Sara didn't regret her journey into the Labyrinth, however. Somewhere within the heart of the Labyrinth, she had found herself, which was exactly what she had needed to defeat Jareth, the Goblin King, the quintessence of all her fears and dreams and hopes and nightmares.

Slowly, Sara got up out of bed and went downstairs to the kitchen to brew herself some tea, being careful not to make any noise to waken anyone. She filled the electric kettle, flipped the switch, and perched on a stool to wait for the water to boil.

Her thoughts drifted as they always did to the Labyrinth. She wondered what Hoggle and Ludo and Sir Diddymus and Ambrosius were doing. It saddened her to know that she'd never see them again, at least not in the flesh.

They had sent her a wonderful dream the night of her return home and Sara found herself missing them sorely. But at least this way she was safe from Jareth. Although she had defeated him in the flesh, he still haunted her thoughts. His name was a tickle at the edge or her mind, ever present and inescapable. When she closed her eyes she saw his impenetrable mismatched ones staring at her, unreadable, as they had when he fell into the void at the end of the Labyrinth.

But what frightened her the most was that part of her had badly wanted to accept his offer. If it hadn't been for Toby...

The high whistle of the kettle boiling interrupted her thoughts. Sara fished a mint tea bag out of the box and put it in the teapot, then poured in the boiling water. Steam rose and warmed her face and she breathed in the fresh minty scent. She put the tea cozy over top and let it steep.

Where the Labyrinth was concerned, Sara was sure of one thing. The Labyrinth had changed her. In a world where she was once huffy and stubborn, she now had an inner quiet. The old determined, strong-willed Sara was still there, but less obtrusively. She no longer fought the current; she rode it. And, from time to time, left it, distanced herself from herself and simply watched life unfold.

Sara retrieved the honey from a cupboard and spooned some into her tea. She stirred, enjoying the quiet of the house with only the rasping of her teaspoon on the bottom of the mug to disturb the silence. She tapped the spoon twice on the edge of the mug to dislodge any stray tea drops then slowly brought the mug to her lips and took a sip.

Then when she felt it.

The slightest zephyr rippled her hair, the silence grew deafening, and the air became so heavy it was almost palpable. There was somebody else in the room with her. Hands suddenly cold and slippery, Sara carefully put her tea down, took a deep breath and spoke his name without turning around.

"Jareth." The word escaped her lips softer than a whisper.

Sara closed her eyes for a moment then tried again. "Jareth." she said with as much confidence as was possible, "Leave."

She could hear his amused chuckle across the kitchen. "Is this how you welcome an old friend, Sara?" he asked.

Sara turned around slowly to face him. He was exactly as she remembered, with his spiky hair, mismatched eyes, and thin lips permanently set in an annoyingly amused smirk. "You are no friend of mine." Sara said coldly. "Leave."

"At least allow me the courtesy of explaining why I'm here." Jareth said, throwing Sara a beseeching look. Sara stared him down.

"I am here to invite you to be my guest of honour at the Goblin castle for seven days." He said, taking her silence as an invitation to continue.

"Why?" Sara asked curtly. Jareth had to have ulterior motives. He always did.

"As you are the first person to conquer the Labyrinth in three thousand and forty two years," Jareth explained, "tradition dictates I must recognize you publicly. And, as the Feast of the Goblin, which occurs every hundred years within the week of the autumnal equinox, has been scheduled for next week, I thought it would be fitting for you to be there."

"I have absolutely no desire to be 'Publicly recognized.'" Sara said.

"I know that," Jareth replied, "But my subjects expect and demand it. All I ask is a week, barely more than half a day in this world! Your every need will be satisfied and you'll be home as soon as thirteen o'clock chimes on the seventh day."

"No." she said again.

"Just think!" said Jareth. "You would get to see your old friends again! Ludo, Sir Diddymus, Hogweed-"

"Hoggle." Sara corrected.

"Right, Hoggle. Wouldn't they be happy to see you?"

Sara knew he was just trying to appeal to her love for her friends to get her to go, but she _did_ miss them all…

She gave an impatient sigh. "The thing is, Jareth, " she said, "How do I know that I can trust you? How do I know that this isn't some elaborate plan for revenge? How do I know that you're telling the truth?"

Jareth looked a little hurt at these doubts. "Sara," he said, "have I ever lied to you?"

No, Sara thought, staring at her toes, No you haven't.

"Look into my eyes and tell me if you think I want to hurt you." Jareth said.

Sara raised her gaze to meet his and searched his face. Jareth gazed earnestly back. Finally, she looked away. "No." she said quietly.

"Then why won't you come with me?" he inquired.

Sara wasn't exactly sure why. All she knew was that she had a very uneasy feeling about this. And her instincts were seldom wrong.

"My parents – they'll worry." She said not untruthfully. They would worry a little, but they trusted her enough to be sure she was safe.

"Write them a note saying you've gone on a trip for the weekend" Jareth suggested. "They'll never find out."

"And what about packing?" Sara asked.

"I already told you," Jareth replied, "your every need will be satisfied. He gave her a pleading look. "Please, Sara." He said.

Sara let out a deep sigh. She did want to see her friends again, and despite her qualms, Jareth did seem to be genuine.

"Just one week is all I ask." He added.

"Alright," she said at last, "I'll come."

But she couldn't help feeling she had just made a deal with the Devil.

"Take my hand." Jareth said, extending his own. Sara took it. "Now hold on tight!" he warned as he spun his cloak around them both in a wide glittering black arc. Sara's kitchen began to spin round them, slowly at first then whirling faster and faster until everything faded to a gray blur.

Suddenly Sara was being pulled in every direction, harsh winds whipping and tearing at her skin. She felt Jareth's grip tighten as the winds tried to tear them apart. Just when Sara was sure they would be ripped apart, the wind ceased as suddenly as it had begun and a room swam into focus. Sara quickly realized that they were standing in the very room where she had last seen her faithful friends before she had left them to defeat Jareth and save Toby.

Sara swayed a little, feeling incredibly dizzy. Jareth helped her regain her balance.

"I'm very sorry that you had to experience that." Jareth said, "I know it's unpleasant but it is the quickest and safest way to travel between the Aboveground and the Underground."

"Next time let's take the scenic route." Sara said, only half kidding.

Jareth smiled. He glanced at the clock that hung on the wall. "It's coming up on two o'clock." he said. "I really don't mean to be rude but I have preparations to make and many things to oversee, so I will have to get a servant to show you to your room. Regrettably it would be impossible for me to do so personally at the moment."

"That's fine" Sara nodded.

Jareth produced a tiny silver bell from within the folds of his cloak and rang it. Sara heard no sound but moments later a gangly-eared, snaggle-toothed orange goblin, dressed in a very clean prim suit entered the room bowing then stood awaiting instructions.

"I will need you to take Lady Sara to her chamber." Jareth instructed. "Wait for her outside."

The goblin nodded by way of response, bowed once more, and left the room. Jareth handed Sara the bell. "Ring this if you ever need assistance." he said. Sara nodded and pocketed the bell.

"One more thing," Jareth said as Sara turned towards the door where the goblin had exited moments before.

"Yes?"she asked, pausing.

"Would you be so kind as to join me for dinner at six o'clock?" Jareth invited.

"Sure." Sara agreed.

"Excellent. I will send someone to escort you to the Northern Veranda then." Jareth replied.

"Okay then." Sara said.

"Alright" said Jareth.

"Well then, I'll just, ah, be off now." Sara said, but still she lingered.

"Remember," Jareth said, "Should you need anything at all, don't hesitate to ask."

"Well..." Sara began.

"Yes?" asked Jareth.

"There is one thing..." she trailed off, blushing a little.

"Anything. Just name it." Jareth encouraged.

"Could I, er," Sara stuttered, "Could I possibly have my hand back please?"

Jareth looked down and saw that he was still clutching Sara's hand from the trip down to the Underground. He released it immediately.

"Sorry," he said with a devilish grin, "You're just so warm."

"Don't sweat it." Sara reassured him before turning and walking out of the room.

**

* * *

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	5. Dinner for Two

**

* * *

**Once outside the room, Sara was quickly approached by the goblin servant. "This way please, madam." it said as it swept a low bow. Sara followed it through a maze of corridors and stairways to a pair of intricately carved mahogany doors. 

"Your room, madam." said the goblin before standing respectfully to one side with its hands clasped behind its back.

The room that lay beyond was like no other Sara had ever seen. She entered it slowly, unsure if it was real. It was gigantic, the size of a ballroom, and equally as elegant. The floors and walls were a pale white marble, but there were no cracks, as though the entire room had been cut from one single huge marble slab. In the very center of the room was a majestic crystal chandelier that lit up the room with hundreds of hanging candles.

As she walked through the doorway, Sara looked around the room. To her right, on the same wall as the door, near the corner of the room, was a magnificent fireplace, the mantle carved with intricate designs of flora and fauna. Surrounding this corner were a chaise longue, four very comfortable-looking armchairs, and a loveseat.

A long tapestry hung on the adjacent wall, depicting a unicorn standing guard over a forest while a dark murky stream dripped down into the open jaws of a dragon in a cave below. Sara thought she saw the unicorn move but since it stayed perfectly still when she watched it a moment longer, she decided it had merely been a trick of the lights. Next to the tapestry was a beautiful old-fashioned writing desk with many drawers.

Glancing over her shoulder, Sara noticed that the goblin servant was still standing outside the door, staring blankly at the wall opposite from it. She went to it and said "You don't have to stay there - you can leave if you want."

The goblin gave her a curt nod and a grateful smile, said "Madam." then left. Sara turned back to her room.

In the center of the wall opposite the door was an enormous four-poster bed, hung with deep emerald silk curtains that matched the open ones on the glass doors beside it. Through them Sara could see a balcony of the same marble as the rest of the room and the afternoon sky.

The wall to her left simply had two mahogany doors, and a very large mirror in a gold frame stretched from floor to ceiling on the left side of the door. Next to it was a magnificent grandfather clock with an abalone face. Sara noticed right away that the hours went to thirteen. Twenty-six hour days she thought idly.

Sara crossed the room and opened the glass doors. A cool breeze met her and ruffled her hair. She crossed the balcony and leaned on the railing, admiring the view. Below her stretched the labyrinth, though not the same part of it she had run through on her last visit. From where she was, Sara could see all of its twists and turns as though it were a maze on paper. It looked so simple from where she stood; so easy. But if Sara had learned anything during her last visit to the Labyrinth it was that not everything is as it seems. And she knew firsthand that the Labyrinth was anything but simple. She turned back to her room.

Sara went to the first mahogany door and opened it. Behind it lay a room smaller than the main one but still very big. To her right were three small steps that led up to a deep green marble bath the size of a small swimming pool. It was oval in shape, cut into the large marble block. Small tea-light candles lined the rim of the tub except a gap in front of the stairs and another where a polished brass nozzle and two knobs protruded. The candles lit up as if by magic as Sara entered the room, revealing the many coloured glass bottles that lined the wall around the tub, as well as a marble toilet that Sara thought looked more like a throne, a matching sink, and a brass towel rack filled with fluffy blue towels. Sara left the room and moved on to the second door.

As she passed through the second mahogany door, Sara gasped. The room that lay beyond was a huge closet. Three of the four walls were lined with clothes and shoes. Next to the door was an old-fashioned dressing table with a mirror on it. There were many perfume bottles on it, as well as a beautiful set of silver combs.

Sara walked over to the nearest rack of clothing and pulled something out at random. It was a green silk dress with a pattern that gave the impression it was made of thinly woven ivy strands. Slipping out of her pyjamas, Sara pulled the dress over her head. When she exited the room to examine herself in the gold-framed mirror, she was astonished to see that it fit her perfectly. She hurried back into the closet, eager to see if this would be the case with all the clothes she tried. It was. It's almost as if, she found herself thinking, almost as if… They were tailor-made for me, She realized.

Sara decided she needed to change out of her pyjamas and into some clothes. She tried on several more things that were, in her opinion, too dressy for supper, and finally settled on a breezy white blouse, black pants, a silver belt and earrings, and a pair of dark suede shoes that were so soft they felt like slippers.

As she went back into the main room, closing the dressing room door behind her, Sara glanced at the clock. It was half past four, so she had an hour and a half to kill before supper. She wandered over to the writing desk and plopped down onto the generously stuffed chair in front of it. She opened a few of the numerous drawers and found an array of writing equipment. There were many bottles of different coloured ink in every hue imaginable, ancient-looking pens and nibs, and lots of thick creamy paper. There were several sticks of sealing wax, heavy metal seals and even some ribbon to tie scrolls.

Wow, she thought, just like in a fairytale.

A sudden knock at the door pulled Sara abruptly from her musings and made her jump. She crossed the room and opened the door to find a short green goblin in a similar suit to the one who had shown her to her room.

It bowed low, then inquired "Is madam ready to be escorted to supper?"

"Is it six already?" Sara said more to herself than the goblin.

"It is five to the hour if you please madam." the goblin replied.

"Alright, well let's go then." Sara said.

Th goblin bowed and said "Very good madam" then turned away with a "This way, if you please." and led her off down the corridor. Five minutes later they stood before a pair of glass doors similar to those that led to Sara's balcony. The goblin motioned the doors. "The Northern Veranda, madam." It said. Sara thanked the goblin and went outside.

Jareth was sitting on a silvery brass chair by a matching table. He stood up as she entered, ever the gentleman, and smiled. "Ah, my guest of honour." He said, then pulled out the chair opposite him, "Please, sit."

As they sat, Sara looked around her. Exotic flowers bloomed in an array of colours, vibrant hued birds flapped between trees squawking and whistling to each other, and the air was warm and humid.

"It's very pretty, isn't it." Jareth said, noticing that Sara was impressed by her surroundings.

"Yes." Sara agreed. But she was a little confused as to how a small tropical jungle had gotten inside a castle.

When she voiced this question, Jareth replied "This was built many thousands of years ago by a Goblin King whose name was lost in history." He paused for a moment to signal a nearby goblin waiter, who promptly left them only to reappear with what looked like a bottle of wine and two gold-rimmed wine glasses.

"Purpleberry wine." Jareth said as he filled both glasses. "Unique to the Labyrinth and very difficult to produce on account of the fact that the only known purpleberry bush grows in the very murkiest part of the bog of eternal stench and only produces berries every seven hundred years." Sara couldn't help but wonder how much a single bottle must cost under those conditions.

"It is one of the most exquisite drinks in the known world and a personal favorite of mine." Jareth continued. "Here, try some." he said handing Sara a glass. "I'm sure you will be most pleasantly surprised."

Sara took the proffered glass and sipped. There was an explosion of flavour as the drink reached her tongue. It was bubbly but not fizzy and just tangy enough to make her back teeth tingle. It had the most unique and delicious taste Sara had ever experienced, and had the very odd effect of making her feel like she was a cloud floating lazily along the sky. It was the most extraordinary drink she had ever tasted and she immediately said so. Jareth laughed and said "I thought you might enjoy it"

"Anyhow," Jareth said, getting back to the plants, "the King who built all this had voyaged to Somshabar, a land of exquisite beauty and heat, and fallen in love with a woman more beautiful than the land around her. She was the daughter of a poor but greedy farmer, and since a King could never marry someone so far below his rank in those days, he paid the farmer a substantial amount of gold to take his daughter back home with him as a concubine, for this was back when a father decided his daughter's fate."

Jareth paused to sip from his glass. "So the Goblin King arrived back home with his prize," he continued a moment later, "but she was very unhappy and missed her homeland a great deal. She never smiled or laughed and spent most of her days sighing and gazing forlornly out of windows towards the East and Somshabar. In an effort to cheer her, the King had the rarest, most beautiful plants and birds imported from Somshabar. He enchanted the plants to be in eternal bloom and never fade, and the birds to sing as flawlessly as nightingales and never age. Then he had this room built to hold them and presented it to his concubine on the one year anniversary of her arrival."

"However," he continued, "the flowers and birds succeeded only in making her miss her home more fiercely than ever and she grew more and more unhappy and wistful each day. But her sorrow soon turned to spite and her spite to anger and hatred towards the King who had kidnaped her from her home. She refused to speak a word in his presence and turned her cheek to his kisses. This behavior seemed merely to amuse the king and did not lessen his love or lust, and indeed, he sired seven children by her despite her hatred and revulsion."

"Ugh!" Sara exclaimed in disgust. "What a pig!"

"Yes," Jareth agreed, "this particular King was quite an unsavoury fellow. And this is quite a sad tale. I can stop if you wish." he offered.

"No," Sara replied, "I have to know what happened in the end."

"As you wish." Jareth said. "Finally one night the girl decided she'd had enough. When she was summoned to the King's bedchambers she carefully concealed a dagger in her robes. After the King had made love to her and lay sleeping beside her, she silently got to her feet and retrieved her dagger. She had planned to kill the King and then herself, but he woke up just as she raised the blade over his heart, and he managed to wrestle the blade away from her, yelling for the guards. They burst in and arrested her and dragged her away, naked as the day she was born, spitting and screaming her hatred for the King. She was executed the next day."

"That's terrible!" Sara said.

"I warned you it wasn't pleasant. But you can console yourself with the fact that the King got what he deserved in the end : History has forgotten him and he is only remembered through his unhappy mistress."

Sara took another sip of purpleberry wine. "I guess history is bloody no matter which world you're in." she said.

"Quite." Jareth agreed. "But enough of those sad matters. I didn't bring you here to depress you. Let us eat ."

He signaled the goblin waiter again and hot steaming rolls and fresh salads were produced. As they worked on these, Sara asked Jareth about the Feast of the Goblin.

"Guests should begin to arrive tomorrow afternoon." he told her. "Most of them are coming from lands very far away and are staying in the castle. The actual feast isn't for another six days, so there are all sorts of balls and banquets planned to keep the guests entertained."

"What sort of people are these guests?" Sara inquired as she broke open a second roll and spread soft white butter on it.

"Oh you know - Royalty, diplomats, aristocrats, old money, new money, old friends, new friends, lords, ladies, dukes and duchesses... Mostly people I have a diplomatic relationships with. But there are a few people who are very dear to me who are coming."

"Like who?" Sara asked.

"Like Vincint." Jareth replied with a grin. "There is no one whose company I prefer."

Sara smiled. "How long have you two known each other?" she asked.

"Oh, forever." Jareth replied. "Vincint is the Demon prince. Our parents were bitter rivals in every way, so naturally they encouraged us both to spend time together so that they could glean as much information about the other as possible. They did everything in their power to convince us to hate each other, so we decided to become real friends just to disobey them, of course."

"I see." Sara laughed. " so you two must be pretty competitive." she added.

"Competitive doesn't do us justice. But we both love nothing more than a challenge and there are never hard feelings (although we do goad each other on past defeats) because the fun is in the competition not in winning. And mostly it's ongoing things because you can never really have read the most books or cast the best spell or run the farthest or what have you."

Sara rolled her eyes. Like Edmond and Fernand in the count of monte cristo, she thought. Boys will be boys.

By now they had finished with their salads and the main course was brought on. The plate in front of Sara had nothing she recognized on it. It was excellently presented : A thick piece of tender looking blue meat on a bed of flame orange leaves with a thick purple sauce drizzled expertly on top. Anywhere else, Sara would have taken one look at the meal and turned her nose up at it proclaiming the colours artificial and the food therefore full of dyes and chemicals. And indeed, she might even have had some qualms about eating blue meat even here if it weren't for the mouth-watering smell.

Sara took a tentative bite of the meat, thinking of the Dr. Seuss story about green eggs and ham. _I do not like green eggs and ham. I do not like them, Sam I Am_. But, like the character in the story, she quickly discovered that the food was exceptionally good. It was tender and tasty and spiced to perfection. The purple sauce was mildly spicy, a nice balance to the meat, and the orange leaves had a definitive nutty taste. As she ate, Sara said "Speaking of friends, when will I get to see Ludo, Sir Diddymus, and Hoggle again?"

"Tomorrow, if you wish." Jareth replied. "I will send them notice right after dinner so they can come in the morning."

"That would be great." Sara agreed. "I haven't seen them for so long!"

Jareth smiled and watched her over the rim of his glass. For a few minutes neither said anything and the chink of cutlery on china was the only sound to be heard aside from birdsong. Then Sara thought of something to say. "So you said there are activities to keep guests entertained. Is there anything planned for tomorrow?"

"Yes, actually." Jareth said. "There will be a formal supper for all the guests who will have arrived by then and who will, I daresay, be hungry, followed by a welcoming ball."

"Oh..." Sara said, unable to hide her anxiety.

"What is it? Don't you like dancing?" Jareth asked.

"Well, I do, but I have no clue how to ballroom dance, and even if I did, it's probably all different down here and–"

Jareth cut her off. "Oh, is THAT the problem. Well don't spend another minute fretting about it. I'll simply have to make you a pair of dancing shoes." he said.

Sara was very confused by this reply. "I don't think shoes are the problem." she said.

"No," said Jareth, "they're the solution. I will make a pair of magical dancing shoes. Shoes that dance for you." he clarified.

"You can do that?" Sara asked before she could stop herself.

"Well really, Sara," Jareth chided, "I'd expect you of all people to know that my magic is quite powerful."

Sara had to agree.

Jareth laughed. "So don't worry about that. Besides, even if you made up a dance as you went along, you could tell everyone it was the height of Aboveground fashion. They'd be none the wiser."

Sara smiled as she pictured herself doing the chicken dance as a roomfull of nobility whispered how fashionable she was. Hardly likely.

"Is your room to your liking?" Jareth inquired.

"Yes, very much so." Sara said. "And the view is amazing!"

Jareth seemed pleased to hear this. Sara wondered if preparing her room had taken a lot of work, thinking back to all the clothes that fit her perfectly. She asked Jareth about it.

"I noticed that all the clothes fit me perfectly...how did you manage that?"

Jareth looked a little confused for a moment then laughed. "Oh yes, I always forget that clothing has sizes and measurements in the Aboveground! Well all the clothing you'll find Underground is spun by the Blue Threadworms, a very old guild of tailors. They make the clothing to fit any wearer (and not vice versa) with an ancient and secret technique which involves spinning ancient and secret magic into the thread."

"Sort of like a universal one-size-fits-all, right?" Sara asked.

"Yes, sort of." Jareth agreed.

That would save some time shopping, Sara thought, then laughed out loud at how materialistic that sounded.

"Is something funny?" Jareth asked, a little smile playing at the edge of his lips.

"Oh, uh, no..." Sara stammered, "I was just thinking of something."

Sara sipped a mouthful of Purpleberry wine and let the bubbles play on her tongue.

"Are you enjoying the food?" Jareth asked.

"Yes, very much." Sara assured him. "It's delicious."

Jareth smiled. "Just wait till dessert." he said.

By the time Sara got back to her room it was dark outside. The fireplace lit as she entered her room casting long shadows along the floor. She had that feeling of warm sleepy fullness that comes after such a huge delicious meal. She changed into her pyjamas from that morning, too tired to look for a pair in the huge closet, then sank into the feathery softness of her bed. She was asleep in moments.

* * *


	6. Nightmares

Sameth stood shrouded in darkness. He slipped a hand under his cloak and withdrew something flat and circular. It was a mirror, round and dark. It was time to check that it worked. He spoke a word and the mirror began pulsating a dull green light. Then he spoke a second word. "Sara"

The mirror shone for a moment with blinding white light, then the image of a girl gradually appeared on its surface. Her dark hair surrounded her like a halo on her pillow. Her eyes were closed, her face peaceful. Sameth watched the steady rise and fall of her chest as she drew deep, slow, rhythmic breaths.

He reached out a long nail-tipped finger and touched the edge of the mirror. Bringing the mirror to his face, he exhaled as softly as a child does to fog up a cold window. The mirror did not fog. Instead, his breath passed through the mirror's surface and became a writhing, snake-like thing, black as the night. A nightmare.

Sameth watched through the mirror as it swirled about Sara's head. It swooped towards her ear, coiled and plunged into her head. Sameth watched with amusement as her serene expression became fear, then pain. Then a different emotion took over.

"Sweet dreams" he whispered softly. He waved his hand over the mirror's surface and his world was plunged into darkness once more.

_Sara stands tall and still in a once magnificent sculpture garden, now eroded, crumbling and faded. Vines have broken through the stone floors to devour the rubble of fallen fragmented pillars. A thin veil of mist and cobwebs dulls the sunlight pouring through the gaps where the roof has fallen and gives everything a blurry edge._

_Sara notices a moth, perched on a nearby statue whose arms and head lie in pieces at its feet. It has brown wings, gingerbread at the tips but gradually darker and darker until it is a deep auburn at the body. Sara wants to touch it, to gently caress it. She reaches out slowly but it flutters away. Her arm drops._

_The moth re-appears, further away. Sara walks toward it but it has already flitted away. She follows the moth to a clearing where it spirals up and out a hole in the roof. But Sara doesn't notice. Something else has caught her attention._

_Before her is a stone fountain, the once elegant spout now turning green in the murky water. Floating face down in it is a body in a white gown. Sara can't see its face. She runs to help this person, plunging through the icy waist-deep water without a second thought. She reaches the body and flips it over in case the person is still alive and needs air. She pushes the person's wet stringy hair off of its face… and screams. Her own face, pale and lifeless, is staring back at her with clouded white eyes. The body in her arms is her own._

_Suddenly the body – her body – is ripped from her arms and pulled down into the murky depths. She stares down at her receding dead face then in a flash she is seeing through its – her – point of view, looking up through the filthy water at her former self, frozen with its – her – mouth still open in a scream. Then she is dragged deeper still and everything is dark. Sara doesn't know what is pulling her. She is unable to go upwards, the same way it is almost impossible to swim upstream._

_Sara now desperately needs air. Her lungs burn and the pain is almost too much to bear. She feels dizzy, she flails out. Her hand touches something. Glass. She rubs it to clear the muck. Through it she can see a room. People are standing just feet away. Watching. Why aren't they helping? Sara wonders. She bangs on the glass. The people laugh and point. Sara feels anger rising along with panic from lack of air._

_Then her eyes meet a mismatched pair. Jareth. He is not laughing. With her very last breath she yells his name, calls to him. As the bubbles float upwards her body convulses violently and her vision begins to fade. Her lungs are screaming for air. And suddenly Jareth is there. His hair floats around him like a halo. He looks worried and is staring at her, searching her face. He cups her chin and presses his mouth on hers, and gives her his air. _


	7. Close encounters

**

* * *

** Sara awoke with that strange feeling when you cannot remember what you dreamed of. She had a moment of confused panic when she didn't recognize her surroundings, but quickly remembered she was in the Goblin castle. She also remembered that today was the day she was going to see Hoggle, Ludo, Sir Diddymus and Ambrosius. She dressed quickly in a simple blue summer dress and sandals and hurried through the castle in search of Jareth. 

She peeked into several rooms, hoping to find him, but had no such luck. Finally she gave up and decided to go outside, reasoning that he would find her if her friends arrived.

Outside, a fine mist covered the ground and the air was crisp and cold. Sara was reminded of lazy summer days spend at her cottage watching the morning fog that rolled in from the lake dissipate as it was pierced with sunlight. She wandered over to a flower garden and sat on a stone bench that looked out over a pond. A family of swans glided across the mirrored surface, leaving long ripples in their wake. Sara shivered a little in the cool morning air.

"There you are." said a voice behind her. Sara turned and saw Jareth standing in the path that led to the garden.

"I have news of your friends." he said, strolling towards her. He joined her on the bench. "My messengers inform me that they are in Foramene, the kingdom that lies east of here, participating in a tournament. And doing quite well, I might add. That Sir Diddymus is far more talented than he looks."

Sara laughed. That was so characteristic of Sir Diddymus, who loved nothing more than a good sword fight.

"Unfortunately, even if we send them word, it will take them a fortnight to get here." Jareth added. This was a slight exaggeration. It would take them a fortnight, on their own, but Jareth could easily get them to his kingdom much faster if he wanted to. However, he had no intention of doing this. He wasn't exactly on good terms with Sara's friends, what with chucking them in the bog of eternal stench, setting the palace guard on them,or above all, trying to steal Sara from them. They would only interfere with his plans, and he wasn't having that.

"Oh." Sara said, looking disappointed.

"We could always try it." Jareth offered. But Sara saw the logic. "No," she said, "Let them enjoy their tournament." Jareth allowed himself a inner smile of triumph. Sara sighed, her breath clouding the air, and shivered again. Jareth noticed. "It's always chilly in the mornings here, but don't worry, it warms up nicely by mid-morning. Here," he said, taking his jacket off, "take this.'

"Thanks" said Sara as she accepted the jacket and draped it over her shoulders. She watched the swans slowly circling around the still waters and felt her eyelids drooping.

**x x x**

Sara opened her eyes from a dreamless sleep. She was lying down on the bench, with the jacket spread across her, and Jareth was gone. She lay still for a moment, eyes still closed, savouring the warmth of the sun on her cheek. She opened her eyes and saw that a little lizard had joined her on the bench and was basking in the sunlight. Sara sat up slowly, so she wouldn't startle it, and took the jacket off because it was no longer cold. The swans were nowhere to be seen.

A clamour of voices drifted to her from the direction of the castle. Sara stood, brushed herself off, then followed them to their source. The cul de sac at the end of the main entrance to the castle was covered in carriages and coaches and people. Bedraggled-looking servants and coachmen, laden with luggage, were bustling in and out of the castle, bringing everything in as their masters oversaw. Jareth stood on the steps before the main door, welcoming guests. Sara spotted him and started towards him across the grass, shading her eyes with one hand. Jareth's back was to her, and he was deep in conversation with a man Sara didn't recognize.

The stranger wore a suit of deep marine blue, with subtle silver embroidery. He was very tall, with broad square shoulders and a muscular build. Two small, brown, softly pointed ears, like those of a cat, protruded from beneath curly chestnut hair. But as Sara neared, it was his eyes that caught her gaze. Framed by long dark lashes, they were the colour of sunbeams in shallow waters; a green so pale as to look almost clear, and a sharp contrast to his cinnamon complexion.

Feeling her gaze, the stranger looked toward her and caught her staring. Sara blushed and looked away, but not before she saw a small amused smile twitch the ends of his lips.

Jareth glanced behind himself to see what had caught his guest's attention, and spotted Sara walking towards them. "Sara." he said as she drew nearer. "Allow me to introduce you to Sanjay, the Arkaar - prince that is - of the Hidden Realm of Aerboli."

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, your highness." Sara said, hoping that she was addressing him properly. She had never really met anyone royal before, and was unsure of the proper etiquette. She put her hand out for a shake. She tried not to look directly at Sanjay incase he was smirking over the staring. But when she snuck a glace there was only a shy, tentative smile on his face.

Sanjay took the proffered hand and bent to plant a gentle kiss. "The pleasure is mine, Lady Sara." he said in a soft voice. "And please, do not call me 'your highness'. It would shame me to hear one so fair address me so formally."

Jareth decided it was time to stop this little encounter. "Sanjay," he interjected, "We mustn't keep you any longer. You must be utterly exhausted from your long journey. I'm sure you'll want to unpack and perhaps freshen up before tonight's banquet." He turned and beckoned a nearby goblin servant.

"Pigstye" he called.

"Er, Pigsnap, your highness" corrected the terrified red goblin.

"Whatever." Jareth muttered. "Escort Arkaar Sanjay to the corner suite in the east wing." _The one furthest away from Sara_, he added in his head.

"Yes milord." the goblin replied before scurrying off. "Until this evening, then." Sanjay said, sweeping a bow before spinning on his heel and signaling his servants to follow the receding red goblin with him.

"Well," said Jareth, turning back to Sara, "Did you have a good nap?" he asked, a smirk twithching at his mouth.

"Oh, ah, this is yours." Sara said, remembering Jareth'sjacket.

"Yes it is." he said, taking it back. "I should probably familiarize you with a few of our guests."

"See the elderly couple over there?" he asked, pointing. Sara looked. An elegant woman, tall and thin, with wispy white hair caught up in a bun, stood talking to a round, corpulent man, who looked as though he had been born with a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye. He reminded Sara of countless Santa Claus pictures.

"Yes." Sara replied, nodding.

"They are queen Erin, matriarch of Kingdom Kaed, and her husband, Prince Padrick. A warmer fellow you've never met, and her highness is a very wise woman, and a dear personal friend." As Jareth told Sara this, the pair disappeared through a door. "I'm afraid I already welcomed them - you will have to wait for tonight to meet them." he said.

Jareth pointed out a man across the courtyard from them. He tall and spidery, with a shock of bright yellow hair. He had a rather large, beaky nose and an unpleasant gleam to his eyes, and wore the expression of one who had just had a lump of rotting cheese waved under his nose. Beside him stood a young pretty girl, whose gaze never strayed from her feet.

"That unpleasant-looking blond fellow" Jareth said, "Is His Esteemed Sir Wenfry Herpdunkle III, Ambassador to the Gnome King, who is a neighbor of mine. Our kingdoms aren't on the best of terms, politically speaking, so I am going to have to keep the despicable Sir Wenfry very happy if I want to avoid war. Personally, I think the Gnome King wants war, because a more infuriating, unpleasant, arrogant man I have never met. And I've met many."

Sara laughed. "Who's that girl with him - his daughter?" she asked. "No," Jareth replied, "That is his wife Matlilda."

"His _wife?_" Sara exclaimed. "He must be three times her age!"

"Four, actually." Jareth corrected. "Yes, it was a very unfortunate affair." He sighed. "Damn, here he comes. I'll tell you about it some other time." he said, just as Sir Wenfry drew near.

"Jareth!" he drawled in a nasal voice. "How marvelous to see you."

Jareth made a face to Sara, winked, then spun around with a smile that could have melted an iceberg. "Sir Wenfry!" he exclaimed. "So glad you could make it. How was your journey?"

"Ugh, awful." Sir Wenfry replied. "I don't even want to talk about it. The roads were muddy, and we had to stop thrice for the coachman to fix the wheel, and when I told him to hurry it up, he had the audacity to tell me he was working as fast as he could. Well. I wasn't about to allow that sort of cheek. I mean, you have to treat these people with severity, rule with an iron fist and whatnot. So I actually had to climb out of the carriage and stand in _mud_ to give him the thrashing he deserved. My shoes were absolutely caked! And _then_ I had to wait while he cleaned them, and-" he stopped mid sentence as he noticed Sara. "My my, what have we here? How rude of you not to introduce us." he said to Jareth.

"This is Lady Sara, our guest of honour for the Feast of the Goblin." Jareth said. "Milady." said Sir Wenfry, taking Sara's hand and kissing it wetly. "She's exquisite." he said to Jareth, apparently not caring that Sara was a living, breathing, thinking person and not an object. "It would appear to be true what they say about mortals, that because they live such short lives they burn brightly and quickly." he looked back at Sara. "She and I must sit together this evening. Jareth, be sure to seat us together." Sara didn't like the way he was looking at her.

"Actually," Jareth lied, "As the guest of honour, Sara must sit in specific places."

"Nonsense," Sir Wenfry objected, "I'm sure you can work it out."

"I'm sure I'll try." Jareth said.

"Yes, do." said Sir Wenfry. "Now, I must get Matilda to start unpacking, or she won't be finished til dawn. Very slow, that girl. I shall see you later then, Jareth," he said, with a curt nod, then "Milady." and he took Sara's hand again and kissed several times, all the way up to her elbow, before striding off back to Matilda.

"Handkerchief" Sara said ina strangled voice, and Jareth gave her his, which she quickly used to wipe her arm off. "What a repulsive man." She commented.

"That's putting it mildly." Jareth replied, and they both laughed.

"Now, there is someone I think you'll find very interesting." Jareth offered. "Do you see her? Over there with the blue hair?" Sara looked, and saw her right away. She was hard to miss, with bright blue hair, long pointed ears and an elfin face.

"Her name is Lily, and she's the sole heir to the Pixie throne." Jareth continued. "She's very... spontaneous. I think you'll like her." he added.

"That lady who just arrived in the carriage over by the hedge," he continued, "is the Queen of Hartt, home of the dreaded card soldiers." Sara saw her. She had long, pin straight black hair over a perfect heart-shaped face. She was dressed in black from head to toe, in a modern aristocratic dress which featured a wire ruff, and had very pale porcelain skin. Beside her stood two guards, dressed in vividly coloured elizabethan style uniforms, which were yellow except for the vest, which was blue, and the ruff, which was white. Each bore an insignia on his chest, though one was a red heart and the other a black spade.

"I'm really through the rabbit hole now." Sara joked. Jareth gave her a confused look, before continuing. "Anyhow," he said, "She is a very powerful mage, and not one to be reckoned with. And it doesn't hurt that she also has entire armies of card soldiers at her command. I'm afraid Hartt is a very military-minded kingdom."

"Over there," Jareth continued, gesturing to a rather muscular blonde man with clear blue eyes, "Is the famed knight Ismayel, who fought the Dreaded Porrinkold, as he'd be the first to tell you."

And so things continued, with Jareth pointing out an assortment of people and telling Sara a little of each's background and character, until the steady influx of coaches and carriages trickled to an end.

It was well into the afternoon by then, and Sara was suddenly aware of how hungry she was. It had to be too late for lunch, she decided. "How long till dinner?" she asked Jareth as they went inside.

Jareth laughed. " A little hungry are we?" he teased. "People are due to be in the dining hall in about an hour. It is a somewhat formal affair, so you may want to take some time to change or freshen up." he added, "Many if not all eyes will be on you, oh guest of honour." he said, his eyes sparkling mischievously.

"Well, till dinner then, oh host of honour." Sara replied equally mischievously, before departing for her chambers.

* * *


End file.
